Patchwork
by Stratosphere at Midnight
Summary: Two team members' actions begin a pushing and pulling effect on the seams of their team. The story of Maraqua's drama filled offseason.


AN: I own nothing.

So. . . This is definitely a strong T. Nothing too explicit, but implied lemon. It starts right after ACV.

And. . . I don't know where this came from, but it's been bouncing around in my head for quite a while, so I might as well post it. Sorry for submitting you all to the tortures created by my imagination. It's a scary place in there.

* * *

><p>Elon knew the second he woke up that he had a major hangover. There simply wasn't another plausible explanation he had for the pounding in his head, the rolling in his stomach, and the ringing in his ears. Or at least one that would also explain his complete lack of recollection about the night before.<p>

Slowly, to let as little of the light through his eyelids as possible, he opened one eye.

And what he saw nearly made him fall out of bed.

There was a blue sea Aisha with much the same expression of shock and horror as he was sure was plastered on his face.

"What-" he began to say before a few bedraggled memories came struggling back. He exchanged his question for a groan of dismay.

He heard a long string of curse words coming from Dorina, and he couldn't say he blamed her. They were pretty much in the worse state his hangover-dazed brain could possibly think of.

He remembered inviting the team over for drinks after they had returned yesterday to help ease the disappointment of fifth after they had been hoping to break into top tier. Only Dorina had showed up.

Then they drank, and talked, and drank some more. . . And he would bet it hadn't taken long before either of them could remember their names, let alone getting fifth.

And apparently their alcohol-confused minds had decided it would be a good idea to sleep with each other.

And now here they were. Naked. In bed.

And oh so screwed.

"Elon- What the- Why- Oh, for Kelpbeard's sake. . . "

Elon could do nothing but stare at her in horror.

"What- What do we do now?" he asked once he got over the initial shock of having one of his teammates in his bed.

Dorina's usually friendly eyes were cold and harsh.

"What do you mean?" she practically snarled. "You're going to turn around. I'm going to get dressed, leave, and we're both going to hope very much that no one sees me leave. And then we're never going to mention this again."

"But-" He cut his reply off and snapped his mouth shut. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

So he turned over and closed his eyes to both the sight of her getting dressed and the light that was making his head pound. He felt the bed shift as she slid out and heard faint rustling sounds. Finally, he heard the door slam, and jumped at the shock and pain at the sudden noise.

And then he was alone.

His thoughts raced, all of them garbled by his pounding head. He stood up slowly, wondering how Dorina had managed to get herself out of bed so quickly. Surely she must be in as pain as he was; that had been a lot of alcohol for anyone to go through. If his confused brain was right, she had even brought her own bottle.

He hauled himself out into the kitchen and sat down with some aspirin and his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Dorina walked out as cautiously as possible, keeping her head down and jacket hood up. Most of the Maraqua team members, Elon included, lived on the outskirts of the large city during the offseason, then rented something closer when practices resumed. At the moment, though, she was staying in the apartment she usually stayed in during the season, as her home was on the other side of the city and she didn't feel like swimming that far.<p>

Still, she had plenty of time to think on the journey.

Elon? Elon? Of all people, she should know better. She had worked so hard to be where she was, and to get far away from where she had been, and not just with her career. . .

Supposedly, there was no rule about dating another team member, but it didn't take a genius to see it wasn't a good idea. And she wouldn't put it past the Altador Cup Committee to write a rule if they found out.

She could lose her spot on the team, although she had a feeling Elon would put up a fight. He knew he had the best team since the first Altador Cup, and that despite their placement, they were only going to get better.

And Elon. . . Elon could easily lose his captaincy. She highly doubted they would kick both her and him off the team but she wouldn't put it past them. The Committee wasn't known for doing what was right by the teams.

And the team itself. . . She had known that they would be offended. Badly. How dare they mess up their chance at top tier by getting themselves kicked off the team? All for one lousy, drunken, meaningless night. . .

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

No one stared at her or paid her any attention. Without their uniforms, the team found it easy to blend into a crowd. Too soon, Dorina found herself inside her tiny apartment. The whole place a feel of disuse around it. Even when she lived there regularly, she mainly used it as a place to sleep and eat. The rest of her time was spent at the stadium. A month away hadn't helped much.

She sighed. The unfortunate thing about her bare space meant that there wasn't anything to distract herself from the colossal mistake she had made.

She let herself fall backwards onto the small sofa in the middle of the room. She supposed she get something to eat, having barely eaten anything the day before because of traveling and obviously skipped breakfast, but she wasn't hungry.

She couldn't stop dwelling on the raw horror she had felt this morning and had seen mirrored on Elon's face. His expression had been almost comical, a mixture of confusion, shock, and pain. She had a feeling he was dealing with a more severe hangover than she was.

She snorted. Who would have thought that Elon "The Black Hole" would have been such a lightweight?

Her thoughts turned back to her main dilemma: moving on like nothing had happened. While she doubted Elon remembered anything more than she did, how was she going to look him in the eye at practice? Just the thought of him brought a mixture of deep shame and something else she couldn't quite identify.

Probably dread, she mused.


End file.
